Showing posts with label Plutarch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Plutarch. Show all posts

Tuesday 19 January 2021

The Essenes And The Christ Child


The Essenes And The Christ Child

by Rev. Robert S. Slater, Unitarian Minister

Nearly 2,000 years ago Plutarch said that history repeats itself. 

Events of the present day indicate that Plutarch spoke more truly than he may have known. 

Shortly before Plutarch’s birth, Jesus the Christ came to the earth. 


A hundred years or more before Plutarch’s birth, preparations were going on so that the Christ might come.

The Edgar Cayce readings tell us that we of today are in a test period. Preparations must be carried out today, as they were 2,000 years ago, if we like those people of old are to usher in the coming of the Christ - this time the second coming.

Who was preparing 2,000 years ago? What groups were preparing for the coming of the Christ, and how were they preparing?

The most prominent of these groups was the one known as the Essenes. We discover that those days were much like today, when we ask, “Why was it necessary that such groups arise, when the orthodox Jewish groups, the Pharisees and the Sadduces, were already in existence?” Reading No. 1472-1, tells us, “Because of the divisions into
. . . sects, as the Pharisees, Sadduces and their divisions. Also there had arisen the Essenes who cherished not only . . . what had come as word of mouth [tradition], but also had kept records of the periods when individuals had been visited with supernatural . . . experiences; whether in dreams or visions or voices or what not, which had been felt by these students of the customs of the law. . .”

When we learn from the readings that these Essenes had “set themselves as a channel through which, in that particular period, there was expected a fulfillment of the promises from the first promise to Eve unto the last one recorded by Malachi,” (No. 993- 5); it seems we have an answer for the existence of the Essenes.

Then, as today, it often seems that the orthodox groups which preach the ancient miracles believe that they are over and done with - cannot happen in the present age - and that God has ceased speaking and acting in the world.

These Essenes, however, could accept such things as dreams, visions and voices. 

They went one step further, in acting upon what they believed: 

Since there was to be A Fulfillment of the ancient promise from God, then there had to be a group which set itself apart as a channel, and really believed that God could communicate and act through men.

What were these promises which the Essenes expected to have fulfilled through them? The readings tell us that they are found in Isaiah, Malachi, Joel and others. (No. 5749). 

The Essenes looked for the advent of the promised Messiah into The Earth, and they had banded together to study the material, both written and traditional, which had been handed down. (No. 3175-2.) 

And the readings tell us, furthermore, that in certain families for generations the men had been set aside for a definite service in the activities of the peoples of the day.

“Not merely the peoples termed in the present as the peoples of Israel, but rather . . . the greater meaning of the world Israel . . . those called of God in service for their fellow man.” (No. 585-2). 

In other words, there were certain groups who believed so strongly in the ancient prophecies that the men of the families were set aside for special Service to Man.

We know now from recent discoveries as well as from the readings that the area of Mt. Carmel near the Mediterranean Sea was the center of activities for this group of the Essenes, and there they drew upon many sources to learn more exactly the time and circumstances of the coming of the promised Messiah. Reading No. 5749 tells us, “. . . more and more of the leaders of the people were in Carmel - the original place where the school of prophets was established during Elijah’s time . . . these were then called Essenes. This school taught “the mysteries of man and his relationship to those forces which might manifest from within and without.” (No. 993-L-5).

In many ways, the Essenes and similar groups attempted to discover more about the Messiah’s coming. 

They “sought . . . through the mysteries of the ages . . . to interpret time and place, according to the stars, and the numerological effects upon the period.” (No. 2408-1). 


As a result of their studies they proclaimed that a certain period constituted a cycle, and they saw the beginning of a new cycle imminent - the beginning of the Piscean Age, indicated by the position of the Polar Star or North Star in relationship to the southern constellations. 


These astronomical relationships they had studied in connection with times when individuals had been visited by the supernatural or out-of- the-ordinary experiences. 

Their conclusion was that the promised Messiah would soon come to The Earth.

The Piscean Age

One of the leaders in gathering this information shortly before the birth of Jesus was Judy. Even before her birth, Judy was dedicated by her parents to the service of God, and apparently because of dreams and visions, great this were expected of her. 

But the parents expected a boy child

The birth of a girl rather than a male, brought considerable disturbance and confusion; yet the parents dedicated Judy to the study of “those things handed down as a part of the experiences of those who had received visitations from the unseen, the unknown . . . or that which is worshipped as the Divine Spirit moving into the activities of man.” (No. 1472-L-1)

Thus - to paraphrase the readings: Judy was brought up almost in ritual fashion which was considered necessary to experience those forces from the unseen; and she was not trained in the disputations and argumentations which were the methods of training in some Jewish groups. 

Judy was taught The Holy Word of her Forefathers not as a dead, but A Living, Thing. 

She came to be one of the leaders of the Essenes, and headed a specific group at Mt. Carmel. She was a prophetess, a healer and a writer and recorder for such groups.

From the work of Judy and others, we see that the knowledge concerning the coming of a Messiah was much broader than the religious culture of the Jews. Judy studied the various kinds of records and traditions of Egypt, India, and many of the Persian lands and lands bordering these. 


A reading given for one Shalmar (No. 2520-1), who was an Essene or one of a similar group, stated that the entity was “acquainted with the teachings of those groups in Persia, India, Egypt, and even of the activities in Olympus and the isles of the sea.” 


Thus we see that there were many people “active . . . in aiding to gather the data from various teachers of the varied lands, for interpretation of . . . the particular group” of Essenes. (No. 1283-1). 


Judy apparently was one of those who led in assembling and interpreting all these facts. 

Wednesday 9 December 2020

Nixon Extempore




"That's what I love about Illusions; they're right up there in front of you but somehow you don't see them... until suddenly you do."



 " And as I advise parents to think nothing more important than The Education of their children, so I maintain that it must be a sound and healthy education, and that 
Our Sons must be kept as far 
as possible from vulgar twaddle

For what pleases The Vulgar 
displeases The Wise. 

I am borne out by the lines of Euripides, 
"Unskilled am I in the oratory that pleases The Mob; but amongst the few that are my equals I am reckoned rather wise. 

For those who are little thought of by The Wise, seem to hit the taste of The Vulgar."

And I have myself noticed that those who practise to Speak Acceptably and to the gratification of The Masses promiscuously, for the most part become also profligate and lovers of pleasure in their lives.

Naturally enough.

For if in giving pleasure to others they neglect The Noble, they would be hardly likely to put the lofty and sound above a life of luxury and pleasure, and to prefer moderation to delights. 

Yet what better advice could we give our sons than to follow this? or to what could we better exhort them to accustom themselves? 

For Perfection is only attained by neither speaking nor acting at random—as the proverb says, 
Perfection is only attained by practice.


Whereas extempore oratory is easy and facile, mere windbag, having neither beginning nor end. 
And besides their other shortcomings extempore speakers fall into great disproportion and repetition, whereas a well considered speech preserves its due proportions. 

It is recorded by Tradition that Pericles, when called on by the people for A Speech, frequently refused on the plea that he was unprepared

Similarly Demosthenes, his state-rival, when the Athenians called upon him for his advice, refused to give it, saying, 

"I am not prepared." 

But this you will say, perhaps, is mere Tradition without Authority

But in his speech against Midias he plainly sets forth the utility of preparation, for he says, 
"I do not deny, men of Athens, that I have prepared this speech to the best of my ability: for I should have been a poor creature if, after suffering so much at his hands, and even still suffering, I had neglected how to plead my case."

Not that I would altogether reject extempore oratory, or its use in critical cases, but it should be used only as one would take medicine.

Up, indeed, to Man's Estate 
I would have no extempore speaking, 
but when anyone's Powers of Speech are rooted and grounded, then, as emergencies call for it, I would allow his words to flow freely. 

For as those who have been for a long time in fetters stumble if unloosed, not being able to walk from being long used to their fetters, so those who for a long time have used compression in their words, if they are suddenly called upon to Speak off-hand, retain the same character of expression. 

But to let mere lads speak extempore is to give rise to the acme of Foolish Talk. 

A wretched painter once showed Apelles, they say, A Picture, and said, 
"I have just done it." 

Apelles replied, 
"Without your telling me, I should know it was painted quickly; I only wonder you haven't painted more such in the time." 

As then (for I now return from my digression), I advise to avoid stilted and bombastic language, so again do I urge to avoid a finical and petty style of speech; for tall talk is unpopular, and petty language makes no impression. 

And as The Body ought to be not only sound but in good condition, so Speech ought to be not only not feeble but vigorous

For a safe mediocrity is indeed praised, but a bold venturesomeness is also admired. 

I am also of the same opinion with regard to the disposition of the soul, which ought to be neither audacious nor timid and easily dejected: for the one ends in impudence and the other in servility; but to keep in all things the mean between extremes is artistic and proper. 

And, while I am still on this topic, I wish to give my opinion, that I regard a monotonous speech first as no small proof of want of taste, next as likely to generate disdain, and certain not to please long. 

For to harp on one string is always tiresome and brings satiety; whereas variety is pleasant always whether to the ear or eye. "

-- Plutarch, 
Moralia, On Education


Richard Nixon Delivers His Farewell Address to Administration Staffers

Members of the Cabinet, members of the White House staff, all of our friends here. I think the record should show that this is one of those spontaneous things that we always arrange whenever the President comes in to speak. And it will be so reported in the press and we don't mind because they've got to call it as they see it.

But in our part, believe me, it spontaneous. 
You are here to say goodbye to us. 
And we don't have a good word for it in English. 
The best is au revoir
We'll see you again.

I just met with the members of the White House staff, you know, those that serve here in the White House, day in and day out, and I asked them to do what I asked all of you to do to the extent that you can and are, of course, are requested to do so, to serve our next President as you have served me and previous Presidents because many of you have been here for many years with devotion and dedication because this office—as great as it is—can only be as great as the men and women who work for and with The President.

This House, for example, I was thinking of it as we walked down this hall and I was comparing it to some of The Great Houses of The World that I've been in.

This isn't The Biggest House. 
Many and most in even smaller countries are much bigger.

This isn't the Finest House. 
Many in Europe, particularly in China, Asia, have paintings of great, great value, things that we just don't have here and probably will never have until we are a thousand years old or older.

But this is The Best House. 
It's The Best House because it has something more important than numbers of people who serve, far more important than numbers of rooms or how big it is, far more important than numbers of magnificent pieces of art.

I was rather sorry they didn't come down. We said good‐by to them upstairs. But they're really great. And I recall after so many times I've made speeches — some of them pretty tough — you'll always come back or after hard day — and my days usually have run rather long — I'd always get a lift from them because I might be a little down, but they always smiled.

And so it is with you. I look around here and I see so many of this staff that, you know, I should have been by your offices and shaking hands and I'd love to have talked to you and found out how to run the world. Everybody wants to tell The President What To Do.
And boy he needs to be told many times. 
But I just haven't had the time.

But I want to know—I want you to know that each and every one of you, I know, is indispensable to this Government.

I'm proud of this Cabinet. I'm proud of our — all the members who have served in our Cabinet. I'm proud of our sub‐Cabinet, I'm proud of our White House staff.

As I pointed out last night, I'm sure we've done some things wrong in this Administration. And the top man always takes the responsibility and I've never ducked it. But I want to say one thing. We can be proud of you—five and a half years. No man or no woman came into this Administration and left it with more of this world's goods than when he came in. No man or no woman ever profited at the public expense or the public till.

That tells something about you. 
Mistakes yes, but for personal gain, never
You did what you believed in, sometimes right, sometimes wrong, and I only wish that I were a wealthy man. 
At the present time I've got to find a way to pay my taxes. 
(laughter)
And if I were, I'd like to recompense you for the sacrifices that all of you have made to serve in Government.

But you are getting something in government. And I want you to tell this to your children and I hope the nation's children will hear it too. Something in government service that is far more important than money.

It's a cause bigger than yourself. It's the cause of making this the greatest nation in the world, the leader of the world, because without our leadership the world will know nothing but war, possibly starvation or worse in the years ahead.

Strength From Sacrifice

With our leadership, it will know peace, it will know plenty. We have been generous and we will be more generous in the future as were able to. But most important, we must be strong here, strong in our hearts, strong in our souls, strong in our belief and strong in our willingness to sacrifice as you have been willing to sacrifice in a pecuniary way, to serve in government.

There's something else I'd like for you to tell your young people. You know, people often come in and say, what'll I tell my kids. You know, they look at government. It's sort of a rugged life and they see the mistakes that are made. They get the impression that everybody is here for the purpose of feathering his nest. That's why I made this earlier point. Not in this Administration. Not one single man or woman.

And I say to them there are many fine careers. This country needs good farmers, good businessmen, good plumbers, good carpenters. I remember My Old Man. I think that they would have called him sort of a — sort of a little man, common man. He didn't consider himself that way. You know what he was?

He was streetcar motorman first and then he was a farmer and then he had a lemon ranch — it was the poorest lemon ranch in California, I can assure you —he sold it before they found oil on it. 
And then he was a grocer. 
But He was a Great Man because he Did His Job and every job counts up to the hilt regardless of What Happens.

Nobody will ever write a book probably about My Mother. 
Well, I guess all of you would say this about Your Mother. 
My Mother was A Saint. 
And I think of her — two boys dying of tuberculosis — nursing four others in order that she could take care of my older brother for three years in Arizona and seeing each of them die and when they died it was like one of her own.

Yes, she will have no books written about her. 
But She Was A Saint.

On Looking Ahead

Now, however, we look to The Future.

Had a little quote in the speech last night from T.R. 
As you know, I kind of like to read books. 
I'm not educated, but I do read books. 
And the T.R. quote was a pretty good one.

There's another one I found as I was reading my last night in the White House. And this quote is about a Young Man. He was a young lawyer in New York. He'd married a beautiful girl. And they had a lovely daughter. And then suddenly she died and this is what he wrote. This was in his diary. He said:

She was beautiful in face and form and lovelier still in spirit. As a flower she grew and as a fair young flower she died. Her life had been always in the sunshine. There had never come to her a single great sorrow. None ever knew her who did not love and revere her for her bright and sunny temper and her saintly unselfishness.

“Fair, pure and joyous to the maiden. Loving, tender and happy as a young wife when she had just become a mother, when her life seemed to be just begun and then the years seemed so bright before her. Then by a strange and terrible, fate, death came to her.

“And when my heart's dearest died, the light went from my life forever.”

That was T.R. in his twenties. He thought The Light had gone from his life forever but he went on. And he not only became President but as an ex‐President, he served his country always in the arena, tempestuous, strong, sometimes wrong, sometimes right. But he was A Man. And as I leave let me say that's an example I think all of us should remember.

We think sometimes when things happen that don't go the right way, we think that when you don't pass the bar exam the first time—I happened to but I was lucky. I mean my writing was so poor the bar examiner said we just gotta let the guy through.

We think that when someone dear to us dies, we think that when we lose an election, we think that when we suffer a defeat that all has ended. We think, as T.R. said, that The Light had left his forever. Not True. It's only A Beginning always.

The Young must know it. The Old must know it. It must always sustain us because The Greatness comes not when things go always good for you, but The Greatness comes and you're really tested, when you take some knocks, some disappointments, when sadness conies because only if you've been in The Deepest Valley can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on The Highest Mountain.

And so I say to you on this occasion we leave, we leave proud of the people who have stood by us and worked for us and served this country.

We want you to be proud of what you've done. We want you to continue to serve in government if that is your wish. Always give your best. Never get discouraged. Never be petty. Always remember others may hate you but those who hate you don't win unless you hate them. And then you destroy yourself.

And so we leave with high hopes, in good spirits and with deep humility and with very much gratefulness in our hearts.

I can only say to each and every one of you, we come from many faiths. We pray, perhaps, to different gods, but really the same God in a sense. But I'll have to say for each and every one of you, not only will we always remember you, not only will we always be grateful to you, but always you will be in our hearts and you will be in our prayers.

Thank you very much.

Monday 16 November 2020

Never Hate Your Enemies -- Even You Father.





Mr. Corleone, all Bastards are Liars. 

Shakespeare wrote poems about it.




Michael, you know Vincent Mancini -- 

Sonny’s Boy.



 



 

PLUTARCH'S MORALS.

ON EDUCATION.


§ i. Come let us consider what one might say on the education of free children, and by what training they would become good citizens.

§ ii. It is perhaps best to begin with birth: I would therefore warn those who desire to be fathers of notable sons, not to form connections with any kind of women, such as courtesans or mistresses: for those who either on the father or mother's side are ill-born have the disgrace of their origin all their life long irretrievably present with them, and offer a ready handle to abuse and vituperation. So that the poet was wise, who said, "Unless the foundation of a house be well laid, the descendants must of necessity be unfortunate."  

Good birth indeed brings with it a store of assurance, which ought to be greatly valued by all who desire legitimate offspring. For the spirit of those who are a spurious and bastard breed is apt to be mean and abject: for as the poet truly says, "It makes a man even of noble spirit servile, when he is conscious of the ill fame of either his father or mother.


On the other hand the sons of illustrious parents are full of Pride and arrogance. As an instance of this it is recorded of Diophantus, the son of Themistocles, that he often used to say to various people "that he could do what he pleased with the Athenian people, for what he wished his mother wished, and what she wished Themistocles wished, and what Themistocles wished all the Athenians wished.

All praise also ought we to bestow on the Lacedæmonians for their loftiness of soul in fining their King Archidamus for venturing to marry a small woman, for they charged him with intending to furnish them not with Kings but Kinglets.

§ iii. Next must we mention, what was not overlooked even by those who handled this subject before us, that those who approach their wives for procreation must do so either without having drunk any wine or at least very little. For those children, that their parents begot in drink, are wont to be fond of wine and apt to turn out drunkards. And so Diogenes, seeing a youth out of his mind and crazy, said, "Young man, your father was drunk when he begot you." 

 Let this hint serve as to Procreation: now let us discuss Education.

 

 

  


 

 

 

CUT TO: A helicopter carrying Michael and Vincent. They are traveling to the meeting that Don Altobello had arranged at Michael's request.

VINCENT

I'd like to take Joey Zasa up for a ride in this and drop him.

MICHAEL

Joey Zasa is nothing. He's a small time enforcer – Mobs, threats, nothing. We'll be able to see him coming, a mile away.

VINCENT

We should kill him before he kills --

MICHAEL

No!

(then)

Never Hate Your Enemies. It affects your Judgment.

CUT TO: Outside an Atlantic City casino where the Commission meeting is to take place, as set up by Don Altobello on Michael’s request. The Text Over reads: Atlantic City, New Jersey.

<Michael and Vincent are welcomed ["Nice to see you again, Mr. Corleone. Mr. Mancini."].

CUT TO: Suite where Commission meeting is to be held.

<A band is playing and women are milling about the busy room full of Dons. Joey Zasa enters and Michael and Vincent enter shortly after. On Michael's arrival the band stops playing and the women are ushered from the room. Vincent nods at Joey Zasa. Once the room is cleared of all but those at the meeting, Don Altobello begins proceedings.>

DON ALTOBELLO (addressing Michael to the Commission)

We entrusted you to manage our money in the casinos. It's not even, twenty years. You sold the casinos, and you made fortunes for all of us. Bravo Don Corleone!

<The room applauds Michael. Joey Zasa gives a half-hearted clap.>

MICHAEL

Thank you. Friends, I have come here, because, our business together is done. We have prospered, and now it is time for us, to dissolve, the business relationship between us.

<There are murmurs of protest.>

MICHAEL

That's it. But I do have a little surprise

(then, to Neri)

Al?

<Al removes a bundle of envelopes from his jacket.>

MICHAEL

Your shares, in the casinos. I thought I'd cut through all the red tape so you can get your money right away.

<This news is met with a more positive response.>

A DON

Fifty million dollars!

<Vincent is passing out envelopes.>

MICHAEL

Not everyone gets the same…

VINCENT (whispering into Joey Zasa’s ear)

Nothing for you…

MICHAEL

…It depends how much you invested, and how long for.

<The Dons all marvel at how much they have just received, "Wonderful! Woah! Grazie!">

A DON

Michael, this is really generous!

A DON

Hey, Perisi, how much did you invest?

DON PERISI (putting his envelope in his jacket pocket)

I don’t remember…

DON ALTOBELLO

Michael, you're blessed.

<Joey Zasa has heard enough.>

ZASA

My family has done much of the hard work; taken many risks. All to make money, for the rest of the families.

MICHAEL

You all know Joey Zasa. He is, I admit, an important man. His picture is on the cover of the New York Times magazine. He gets the Esquire magazine award, for the best-dressed gangster! The newspapers praise him, because, he hires Blacks into his family, which shows he has a good heart. He, is famous. Who knows? Maybe one day, he will make all of you, popular.

ZASA

It's true. I make more of a, bella figura, that is my nature. But I also want to make a move into, legitimate enterprises. I'd like to get a little pin from the Pope. Sure, I take the Blacks and the Spanish into my family, because, that's America.

MICHAEL

And you guarantee, they don't deal drugs in those neighborhoods.

ZASA

I don't guarantee that. I guarantee I'll kill anybody who does.

DON ALTOBELLO

Let me talk to him, let me talk to him.

MICHAEL

Who can refuse, Don Altobello…

<The Dons are passing around a tray full of gold jewelry and pearls, and each take one.>

DON ALTOBELLO

Joey...

JOEY (interrupts)

NO! I say to all of you, I have been treated this day, with no respect. I've earned you all money. I've made you rich, and I asked for little. Good. You will not give, I'll take! As for Don, Corleone, well he makes it, very clear to me today, that he is my enemy. You must choose between us.

<Joey storms out. Don Altobello chases after him.>

ALTOBELLO

Hey Joey – no – Joey – no – Joey …

(then, to Michael)

We can reason together – no – Michael, Michael – please, let’s agreed, huh?

MICHAEL

No, Altobello…

<Altobello exists the room>

PERISI

Uh, Michael, Michael. The news is everywhere. Everyone is saying that, you control Immobiliare.

<The Dons begin talking at once.>

A DON

Immobiliare already is laundering money in Peru, in Nassau, we know that…

A DON

Listen to me, Michael…

A DON

Michael, why shouldn’t…

A DON

We should wet our beaks a little…

A DON

We want to do business with you, Michael – we’ve been together for many…

A DON

We could wash our money clean … with holy water…

<Michael stays silent as everyone talks to him, but the talking suddenly stops as a rumbling noise is heard and the room starts to shake. Vincent reacts first.>

VINCENT (to Michael): It’s a hit -- Let's go.

<The meeting disbands and everyone leaps up to leave. "Let’s get outta here!" On the outside of the room, someone snaps a pair of handcuffs over the doorknobs, locking the Dons in the room. A helicopter appears overhead and machine gun fire rips through the glass ceiling of the room. Vincent protects Michael as a massacre ensues.>

VOICE (to a Don)

Forget your coat!

A DON (trying to retrieve his coat before being riddled with bullets)

It’s my lucky coat! It’s my lucky coat!

<Al Neri retrieves a shotgun from behind the bar and blasts a door open.>

AL NERI

Mikey, this way!

<Michael and Vincent escape through this door.>

A DON (laying, bleeding, on the floor)

Zasa! You son of a bitch!

Vincent breaks into a car and opens the door for Michael.

VINCENT

Come on. We're outta here.

<Vincent and Michael escape as we see shots of the remains of the room, and of the bodies that fill it.>
 

 

 

 

SCENE I. King Lear's palace.

    Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND

KENT

    I thought the king had more affected the Duke of
    Albany than Cornwall.

GLOUCESTER

    It did always seem so to us: but now, in the
    division of the kingdom, it appears not which of
    the dukes he values most; for equalities are so
    weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice
    of either's moiety.

KENT

    Is not this your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER

    His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have
    so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am
    brazed to it.

KENT

    I cannot conceive you.

GLOUCESTER

    Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon
    she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son
    for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed.
    Do you smell a fault?

KENT

    I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it
    being so proper.

GLOUCESTER

    But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year
    elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account:
    though this knave came something saucily into the
    world before he was sent for, yet was his mother
    fair; there was good sport at his making, and the
    whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this
    noble gentleman, Edmund?

EDMUND

    No, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

    My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my
    honourable friend.

EDMUND

    My services to your lordship.

KENT

    I must love you, and sue to know you better.

EDMUND

    Sir, I shall study deserving.

GLOUCESTER

    He hath been out nine years, and away he shall
    again. The King is coming.


    Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants

KING LEAR

    Attend The Lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER

    I shall, My Liege.

    Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND -- The Bastard Goes WITH Him.




SCENE II. The Earl of Gloucester's castle.

    Enter EDMUND, with a letter


EDMUND

    Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
    My services are bound. Wherefore should I
    Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
    The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
    For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
    Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
    When my dimensions are as well compact,
    My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
    As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
    With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
    Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
    More composition and fierce quality
    Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
    Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
    Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
    Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
    Our Father's love is to the bastard Edmund
    As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
    Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
    And my invention thrive, Edmund The Base
    Shall top The Legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
    Now, Gods, Stand Up for Bastards!

   
Enter GLOUCESTER



King John receives an ambassador from France who demands with a threat of war that he renounce his throne in favour of his nephew, Arthur, whom the French King Philip believes to be the rightful heir to the throne.

John adjudicates an inheritance dispute between Robert Faulconbridge and his older brother Philip the Bastard, during which it becomes apparent that Philip is the illegitimate son of King Richard I. Queen Eleanor, mother to both Richard and John, recognises the family resemblance and suggests that he renounce his claim to the Faulconbridge land in exchange for a knighthood. 

John Knights Philip The Bastard under the name Richard.


A 19th century drawing by Thomas Nast

In France, King Philip and his forces besiege the English-ruled town of Angers, threatening attack unless its citizens support Arthur. Philip is supported by Austria, who is believed to have killed King Richard. The English contingent arrives; and then Eleanor trades insults with Constance, Arthur’s mother. Kings Philip and John stake their claims in front of Angers’ citizens, but to no avail: their representative says that they will support the rightful king, whoever that turns out to be.

The French and English armies clash, but no clear victor emerges. Each army dispatches a herald claiming victory, but Angers’ citizens continue to refuse to recognize either claimant because neither army has proven victorious.

The Bastard proposes that England and France unite to punish the rebellious citizens of Angers, at which point the citizens propose an alternative: Philip’s son, Louis the Dauphin, should marry John’s niece Blanche (a scheme that gives John a stronger claim to the throne) while Louis gains territory for France. Though a furious Constance accuses Philip of abandoning Arthur, Louis and Blanche are married.

Cardinal Pandolf arrives from Rome bearing a formal accusation that John has disobeyed the Pope and appointed an archbishop contrary to his desires. John refuses to recant, whereupon he is excommunicated. Pandolf pledges his support for Louis, though Philip is hesitant, having just established family ties with John. Pandolf brings him round by pointing out that his links to the church are older and firmer.

War breaks out; Austria is beheaded by the Bastard in revenge for his father’s death; and both Angers and Arthur are captured by the English. Eleanor is left in charge of English possessions in France, while the Bastard is sent to collect funds from English monasteries. John orders Hubert to kill Arthur. Pandolf suggests to Louis that he now has as strong a claim to the English throne as Arthur (and indeed John), and Louis agrees to invade England.




A Lithograph depicting Act III Scene I

Hubert finds himself unable to kill Arthur. John’s nobles urge Arthur’s release. John agrees, but is wrong-footed by Hubert’s announcement that Arthur is dead. The nobles, believing he was murdered, defect to Louis’ side. Equally upsetting, and more heartbreaking to John, is the news of his mother’s death, along with that of Lady Constance. The Bastard reports that the monasteries are unhappy about John’s attempt to seize their gold. Hubert has a furious argument with John, during which he reveals that Arthur is still alive. John, delighted, sends him to report the news to the nobles.
Arthur dies jumping from a castle wall. 


(It is open to interpretation whether he deliberately kills himself or just makes a risky escape attempt.) 



The nobles believe he was murdered by John, and refuse to believe Hubert’s entreaties. John attempts to make a deal with Pandolf, swearing allegiance to the Pope in exchange for Pandolf’s negotiating with the French on his behalf. John orders the Bastard, one of his few remaining loyal subjects, to lead the English army against France.

While John’s former noblemen swear allegiance to Louis, Pandolf explains John’s scheme, but Louis refuses to be taken in by it. The Bastard arrives with the English army and threatens Louis, but to no avail. War breaks out with substantial losses on each side, including Louis’ reinforcements, who are drowned during the sea crossing. Many English nobles return to John’s side after a dying French nobleman, Melun, warns them that Louis plans to kill them after his victory.

John is poisoned by a disgruntled monk. His nobles gather around him as he dies. 

The Bastard plans the final assault on Louis’ forces, until he is told that Pandolf has arrived with a peace treaty. The English nobles swear allegiance to John’s son Prince Henry, and the Bastard reflects that this episode has taught that internal bickering could be as perilous to England’s fortunes as foreign invasion.













Thursday 5 November 2020

Yggdrasil



Ratatoskr (Old Norse, generally considered to mean "drill-tooth"or "bore-tooth”) is a squirrel who runs up and down The World Tree, Yggdrasil to carry messages between The Eagle perched atop Yggdrasil, and The Serpent Níðhöggr, who dwells beneath one of the three roots of The Tree. 







“The Tree of Europe is finally lost. Europe today has little desire to reproduce itself, fight for itself or even take its own side in an argument. Those in power seem persuaded that it would not matter if the people and culture of Europe were lost to the world. Some have clearly decided (as Bertolt Brecht wrote in his 1953 poem ‘The Solution’) to dissolve the people and elect another because, as a recent Swedish conservative Prime Minister Fredrik Reinfeldt put it, only ‘barbarism’ comes from countries like his whereas only good things come from outside. There is no single cause of the present sickness. 

The culture produced by the tributaries of Judaeo-Christian culture, the Ancient Greeks and Romans, and the discoveries of the Enlightenment has not been levelled by nothing. 

But the final act has come about because of two simultaneous concatenations from which it is now all but impossible to recover. 

The first is the mass movement of peoples into Europe. In all Western European countries this process began after the Second World War due to labour shortages. Soon Europe got hooked on the migration and could not stop the flow even if it had wanted to. The result was that what had been Europe – the home of the European peoples – gradually became a home for the entire world. The places that had been European gradually became somewhere else. So places dominated by Pakistani immigrants resembled Pakistan in everything but their location, with the recent arrivals and their children eating the food of their place of origin, speaking the language of their place of origin and worshipping the religion of their place of origin. Streets in the cold and rainy northern towns of Europe filled with people dressed for the foothills of Pakistan or the sandstorms of Arabia. 

‘The Empire strikes back’ noted some observers with a barely concealed smirk. Yet whereas the empires of Europe had been thrown off, these new colonies were obviously intended to be for good. All the time Europeans found ways to pretend this could work. By insisting, for instance, that such immigration was normal. Or that if integration did not happen with the first generation then it might happen with their children, grandchildren or another generation yet to come. Or that it didn’t matter whether people integrated or not. 

All the time we waved away the greater likelihood that it just wouldn’t work. This is a conclusion that the migration crisis of recent years has simply accelerated. 

Which brings me to the second concatenation. For even the mass movement of millions of people into Europe would not sound such a final note for the continent were it not for the fact that (coincidentally or otherwise) at the same time Europe lost faith in its beliefs, traditions and legitimacy. Countless factors have contributed to this development, but one is the way in which Western Europeans have lost what the Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno famously called the ‘tragic sense of life’. 

They have forgotten what Zweig and his generation so painfully learnt: that everything you love, even the greatest and most cultured civilisations in history, can be swept away by people who are unworthy of them. Other than simply ignoring it, one of the few ways to avoid this tragic sense of life is to push it away through a belief in the tide of human progress. That tactic remains for the time being the most popular approach. 

Yet all the time we skate over, and sometimes fall into, terrible doubts of our own creation. More than any other continent or culture in the world today, Europe is now deeply weighed down with guilt for its past. 

Alongside this outgoing version of self-distrust runs a more introverted version of the same guilt. For there is also the problem in Europe of an existential tiredness and a feeling that perhaps for Europe the story has run out and a new story must be allowed to begin. 

Mass immigration – the replacement of large parts of the European populations by other people – is one way in which this new story has been imagined: a change, we seemed to think, was as good as a rest. 

Such existential civilisational tiredness is not a uniquely modern European phenomenon, but the fact that a society should feel like it has run out of steam at precisely the moment when a new society has begun to move in cannot help but lead to vast, epochal changes. 

Had it been possible to discuss these matters some solution might have been reached. Yet even in 2015, at the height of the migration crisis, it was speech and thought that was constricted. 

At the peak of the crisis in September 2015 Chancellor Merkel of Germany asked the Facebook CEO, Mark Zuckerberg, what could be done to stop European citizens writing criticisms of her migration policy on Facebook. ‘Are you working on this?’ she asked him. He assured her that he was. 

In fact the criticism, thought and discussion ought to have been boundless. Looking back, it is remarkable how restricted we made our discussion even whilst we opened our home to the world. A thousand years ago the peoples of Genoa and Florence were not as intermingled as they now are, but today they are all recognisably Italian and tribal differences have tended to lessen rather than grow with time. 

The current thinking appears to be that at some stage in the years ahead the peoples of Eritrea and Afghanistan too will be intermingled within Europe as the Genoans and Florentines are now melded into Italy. The skin colour of individuals from Eritrea and Afghanistan may be different, their ethnic origins may be from further afield, but Europe will still be Europe and its people will continue to mingle in the spirit of Voltaire and St Paul, Dante, Goethe and Bach. 

As with so many popular delusions there is something in this. The nature of Europe has always shifted and – as trading cities like Venice show – has included a grand and uncommon receptiveness to foreign ideas and influence. From the Ancient Greeks and Romans onwards the peoples of Europe sent out ships to scour the world and report back on what they found. 

Rarely, if ever, did the rest of the world return their curiosity in kind, but nevertheless the ships went out and returned with tales and discoveries that melded into the air of Europe. The receptivity was prodigious: it was not, however, boundless. 

The Question of where the boundaries of The Culture lay is endlessly argued over by anthropologists and cannot be solved. 

But there were boundaries. Europe was never, for instance, a continent of Islam.

Yet the awareness that our culture is constantly, subtly changing has deep European roots. The philosophers of Ancient Greece understood the conundrum, summing it up most famously in the paradox of the Ship of Theseus. 

As recorded in Plutarch, the ship in which Theseus had sailed had been preserved by the Athenians who put in new timber when parts of the ship decayed. Yet was this not still the ship of Theseus even when it consisted of none of the materials in which he had sailed? 

We know that the Greeks today are not the same people as the Ancient Greeks. We know that The English are not the same today as they were a millennium ago, nor the French the French. And yet they are recognisably Greek, English and French and all are European. In these and other identities we recognise a degree of cultural succession: a tradition that remains with certain qualities (positive as well as negative), customs and behaviours. 

We recognise the great movements of the Normans, Franks and Gauls brought about great changes. And we know from history that some movements affect a culture relatively little in the long term whereas others can change it irrevocably. 

The Problem comes not with an acceptance of change, but with the knowledge that when those changes come too fast or are too different we become Something Else – including something we may never have wanted to be. 

At the same time we are confused over how this is meant to work. While generally agreeing that it is possible for an individual to absorb a particular culture (given the right degree of enthusiasm both from the individual and the culture) whatever their skin colour, we know that we Europeans cannot become whatever we like. 

We cannot become Indian or Chinese, for instance. And yet we are expected to believe that anyone in The World can move to Europe and become European. 

If being ‘European’ is not about race – as we hope it is not – then it is even more imperative that it is about ‘values’. This is what makes the question ‘What are European values?’ so important. 

Yet this is another debate about which we are wholly confused.”


Tuesday 3 September 2019

Livy








​LIVY [Titus Livius] (59 B.C.–A.D. 17), Roman historian, was born at Patavium (Padua). The ancient connexion between his native city and Rome helped to turn his attention to the study which became the work of his life. For Padua claimed, like Rome, a Trojan origin, and Livy is careful to place its founder Antenor side by side with Aeneas. A more real bond of union was found in the dangers to which both had been exposed from the assaults of the Celts (Livy x. 2), and Padua must have been drawn to Rome as the conqueror of her hereditary foes. Moreover, at the time of Livy’s birth, Padua had long been in possession of the full Roman franchise, and the historian’s family name may have been taken by one of his ancestors out of compliment to the great Livian gens at Rome, whose connexion with Cisalpine Gaul is well-established (Suet. Tib. 3), and by one of whom his family may have been enfranchized.

Livy’s easy independent life at Rome, and his aristocratic leanings in politics seem to show that he was the son of well-born and opulent parents; he was certainly well educated, being widely read in Greek literature, and a student both of rhetoric and philosophy. We have also evidence in his writings that he had prepared himself for his great work by researches into the history of his native town. His youth and early manhood, spent perhaps chiefly at Padua, were cast in stormy times, and the impression which they left upon his mind was ineffaceable. In the Civil War his personal sympathies were with Pompey and the republican party (Tac. Ann. iv. 34); but far more lasting in its effects was his experience of the licence, anarchy and confusion of these dark days. The rule of Augustus he seems to have accepted as a necessity, but he could not, like Horace and Virgil, welcome it as inaugurating a new and glorious era. He writes of it with despondency as a degenerate and declining age; and, instead of triumphant prophecies of world-wide rule, such as we find in Horace, Livy contents himself with pointing out the dangers which already threatened Rome, and exhorting his ​contemporaries to learn, in good time, the lessons which the past history of the state had to teach.

It was probably about the time of the battle of Actium that Livy established himself in Rome, and there he seems chiefly to have resided until his retirement to Padua shortly before his death. We have no evidence that he travelled much, though he must have paid at least one visit to Campania (xxxviii. 56), and he never, so far as we know, took any part in political life. Nor, though he enjoyed the personal friendship and patronage of Augustus (Tac. Ann. iv. 34) and stimulated the historical zeal of the future emperor Claudius (Suet. Claud. xli.), can we detect in him anything of the courtier. There is not in his history a trace of that rather gross adulation in which even Virgil does not disdain to indulge. His republican sympathies were freely expressed, and as freely pardoned by Augustus. We must imagine him devoted to the great task which he had set himself to perform, with a mind free from all disturbing cares, and in the enjoyment of all the facilities for study afforded by the Rome of Augustus, with its liberal encouragement of letters, its newlyf ounded libraries and its brilliant literary circles. As his work went on, the fame which he had never coveted came to him in ample measure. He is said to have declared in one volume of his history that he had already won glory enough, and the younger Pliny (Epist. ii. 3) relates that a Spaniard came all the way from Gades merely to see him, and, this accomplished, at once returned home satisfied. The accession of Tiberius (A.D. 14) materially altered for the worse the prospects of literature in Rome, and Livy retired to Padua, where he died. He had at least one son (Quintil. x. I. 39), who also was possibly an author (Pliny, Nat. Hist. i. 5.6), and a daughter married to a certain L. Magius, a rhetorician of no great merit (Seneca, Controv. X. 29.2). Nothing further is known of his personal history.

Analysis of the History−For us the interest of Livy's life centres in the work to which the greater part of it was devoted, the history of Rome from its foundation down to the death of Drusus (9 B.C.). Its proper title was Ab urbe condita libri (also called historiae and annales). Various indications point to the period from 27 to 20 B.C., as that during which the first decade was written. In the first book (19.3) the emperor is called Augustus, a title which he assumed early in 27 B.C., and in ix. 18 the omission of all reference to the restoration, in 20 B.C., of the standards taken at Carrhae seems to justify the inference that the passage was written before that date. In the epitome of book lix. there is a reference to a law of Augustus which was passed in 18 B.C. The books dealing with the civil wars must have been written during Augustus's lifetime, as they were read by him (Tac. Ann. iv. 34), while there is some evidence that the last part, from book cxxi. onwards, was published after his death A.D. 14.

The work begins with the landing of Aeneas in Italy, and closes with the death of Drusus, 9 B.C., though it is possible that the author intended to continue it as far as the death of Augustus. The division into decades is certainly not due to the author himself, and is first heard of at the end of the 5th century; on the other hand, the division into libri or volumina seems to be original. That the books were grouped and possibly published in sets is rendered probable both by the prefaces which introduce new divisions of the work (vi. 1, xxi. 1, xxxi. 1) and by the description in one MS. of books cix.-cxvi. as "bellorum civilium libri octo." Such arrangement and publication in parts were, moreover, common with ancient authors, and in the case of a lengthy work almost a necessity.

Of the 142 libri composing the history, the first 15 carry us down to the eve of the great struggle with Carthage, a period, as Livy reckons it, of 488 years (xxxi. 1); 15 more (xvi - xxx.) cover the 63 years of the two great Punic wars. With the close of book xlv. we reach the conquest of Macedonia in 167 B.C. Book lviii. described the tribunate of Tiberius Gracchus, 133 B.C. In book lxxxix. we have the dictatorship of Sulla (81 B.C.), in ciii. Caesar's first consulship (59 B.C.), in cix.-cxvi. the civil wars to the death of Caesar (44 B.C.), in cxxiv. the defeat of Brutus and Cassius at Philippi, in cxxxiii. and cxxxiv. the battle of Actium and the accession of Augustus. The remaining eight books give the history of the first twenty years of Augustus's reign. Of this vast work only a small portion has come down to modern times; only thirty-five books are now extant (i.-x., xxi.-xlv.), and of these xli. and xliii. are incomplete. The lost books seem to have disappeared between the 7th century and the revival of letters in the 15th - a fact sufficiently accounted for by the difficulty of transmitting so voluminous a work in times when printing was unknown, for the story that Pope Gregory I. burnt all the copies of Livy he could lay his hands on rests on no good evidence. Only one important fragment has since been recovered - the portion of book xci. discovered in the Vatican in 1772, and edited by Niebuhr in 1820. Very much no doubt of the substance of the lost books has been preserved both by such writers as Plutarch and Dio Cassius, and by epitomizers like Florus and Eutropius. But our knowledge of their contents is chiefly derived from the so-called periochae or epitomes, of which we have fortunately a nearly complete series, the epitomes of books cxxxvi. and cxxxvii. being the only ones missing.[1] These epitomes have been ascribed without sufficient reason to Florus (2nd century); but, though they are probably of even later date, and are disappointingly meagre, they may be taken as giving, so far as they go, a fairly authentic description of the original. They have been expanded with great ingenuity and learning by Freinsheim in Drakenborch's edition of Livy.[2] The Prodigia of Julius Obsequens and the list of consuls in the Chronica of Cassiodorus are taken directly from Livy, and to that extent reproduce the contents of the lost books. It is probable that Obsequens, Cassiodorus and the compiler of the epitomes did not use the original work but an abridgment.

Historical Standpoint−If we are to form a correct judgment on the merits of Livy's history, we must, above all things, bear in mind what his aim was in writing it, and this he has told us himself in the celebrated preface. He set himself the task of recording the history of the Roman people, "the first in the world," from the beginning. The task was a great one, and the fame to be won by it uncertain, yet it would be something to have made the attempt, and the labour itself would bring a welcome relief from the contemplation of present evils; for his readers, too, this record will, he says, be full of instruction; they are invited to note especially the moral lessons taught by the story of Rome, to observe how Rome rose to greatness by the simple virtues and unselfish devotion of her citizens, and how on the decay of these qualities followed degeneracy and decline.

He does not, therefore, write, as Polybius wrote, for students of history. With Polybius the greatness of Rome is a phenomenon to be critically studied and scientifically explained; the rise of Rome forms an important chapter in universal history, and must be dealt with, not as an isolated fact, but in connexion with the general march of events in the civilized world. Still less has Livy anything in common with the naïve anxiety of Dionysius of Halicarnassus to make it clear to his fellow Greeks that the irresistible people who had mastered them was in origin, in race and in language Hellenic like themselves.

Livy writes as a Roman, to raise a monument worthy of the greatness of Rome, and to keep alive, for the guidance and the warning of Romans, the recollection alike of the virtues which had made Rome great and of the vices which had threatened her with destruction. In so writing he was in close agreement with the traditions of Roman literature, as well as with the conception of the nature and objects of history current in his time. To a large extent Roman literature grew out of ​pride in Rome, for, though her earliest authors took the form and often the language of their writings from Greece, it was the greatness of Rome that inspired the best of them, and it was from the annals of Rome that their themes were taken. And this is naturally true in an especial sense of the Roman historians; the long list of annalists begins at the moment when the great struggle with Carthage had for the first time brought Rome into direct connexion with the historic peoples of the ancient world, and when Romans themselves awoke to the importance of the part reserved for Rome to play in universal history. To write the annals of Rome became at once a task worthy of the best of her citizens. Though other forms of literature might be thought unbecoming to the dignity of a free-born citizen, this was never so with history. On the contrary, men of high rank and tried statesmanship were on that very account thought all the fitter to write the chronicles of the state they had served. And history in Rome never lost either its social prestige or its intimate and exclusive connexion with the fortunes of the Roman people. It was well enough for Greeks to busy themselves with the manners, institutions and deeds of the "peoples outside." The Roman historians, from Fabius Pictor to Tacitus, cared for none of these things. This exclusive interest in Rome was doubtless encouraged by the peculiar characteristics of the history of the state. The Roman annalist had not, like the Greek, to deal with the varying fortunes and separate doings of a number of petty communities, but with the continuous life of a single city. Nor was his attention drawn from the main lines of political history by the claims of art, literature and philosophy, for just as the tie which bound Romans together was that of citizenship, not of race or culture, so the history of Rome is that of the state, of its political constitution, its wars and conquests, its military and administrative system.

Livy's own circumstances were all such as to render these views natural to him. He began to write at a time when, after a century of disturbance, the mass of men had been contented to purchase peace at the price of liberty. The present was at least inglorious, the future doubtful, and many turned gladly to the past for consolation. This retrospective tendency was favourably regarded by the government. It was the policy of Augustus to obliterate all traces of recent revolution, and to connect the new imperial regime as closely as possible with the ancient traditions and institutions of Rome and Italy. The Aeneid of Virgil, the Fasti of Ovid, suited well with his own restoration of the ancient temples, his revival of such ancient ceremonies as the Ludi Saeculares, his efforts to check the unRoman luxury of the day, and his jealous regard for the purity of the Roman stock. And, though we are nowhere told that Livy undertook his history at the emperor's suggestion, it is certain that Augustus read parts of it with pleasure, and even honoured the writer with his assistance and friendship.

Livy was deeply penetrated with a sense of the greatness of Rome. From first to last its majesty and high destiny are present to his mind. Aeneas is led to Italy by the Fates that he may be the founder of Rome. Romulus after his ascension declares it to be the will of heaven that Rome should be mistress of the world; and Hannibal marches into Italy, that he may "set free the world" from Roman rule. But, if this ever-present consciousness often gives dignity and elevation to his narrative, it is also responsible for some of its defects. It leads him occasionally into exaggerated language (e.g. xxii. 33, "nullius usquam terrarum rei cura Romanos effugiebat"), or into such misstatements as his explanation of the course taken by the Romans in renewing war with Carthage, that "it seemed more suitable to the dignity of the Roman people." Often his jealousy for the honour of Rome makes him unfair and one-sided. In all her wars not only success but justice is with Rome. To the same general attitude is also due the omission by Livy of all that has no direct bearing on the fortunes of the Roman people. "I have resolved," he says (xxxix. 48), "only to touch on foreign affairs so far as they are bound up with those of Rome." As the result, we get from Livy very defective accounts even of the Italic peoples most closely connected with Rome. Of the past history and the internal condition of the more distant nations she encountered he tells us little or nothing, even when he found such details carefully given by Polybius.

Scarcely less strong than his interest in Rome is his interest in the moral lessons which her history seemed to him so well qualified to teach. This didactic view of history was a prevalent one in antiquity, and it was confirmed no doubt by those rhetorical studies which in Rome as in Greece formed the chief part of education, and which taught men to look on history as little more than a storehouse of illustrations and themes for declamation. But it suited also the practical bent of the Roman mind, with its comparative indifference to abstract speculation or purely scientific research. It is in the highest degree natural that Livy should have sought for the secret of the rise of Rome, not in any large historical causes, but in the moral qualities of the people themselves, and that he should have looked upon the contemplation of these as the best remedy for the vices of his own degenerate days. He dwells with delight on the unselfish patriotism of the old heroes of the republic. In those times children obeyed their parents, the gods were still sincerely worshipped, poverty was no disgrace, sceptical philosophies and foreign fashions in religion and in daily life were unknown. But this ethical interest is closely bound up with his Roman sympathies. His moral ideal is no abstract one, and the virtues he praises are those which in his view made up the truly Roman type of character. The prominence thus given to the moral aspects of the history tends to obscure in some degree the true relations and real importance of the events narrated, but it does so in Livy to a far less extent than in some other writers. He is much too skilful an artist either to resolve his history into a mere bundle of examples, or to overload it, as Tacitus is sometimes inclined to do, with reflections and axioms. The moral he wishes to enforce is usually either conveyed by the story itself, with the aid perhaps of a single sentence of comment, or put as a speech into the mouth of one of his characters (e.g. xxiii. 49; the devotion of Decius, viii. io, cf. vii. 40; and the speech of Camillus, v. 54); and what little his narrative thus loses in accuracy it gains in dignity and warmth of feeling. In his portraits of the typical Romans of the old style, such as Q. Fabius Maximus, in his descriptions of the unshaken firmness and calm courage shown by the fathers of the state in the hour of trial, Livy is at his best; and he is so largely in virtue of his genuine appreciation of character as a powerful force in the affairs of men.

This enthusiasm for Rome and for Roman virtues is, moreover, saved from degenerating into gross partiality by the genuine candour of Livy's mind and by his wide sympathies with every thing great and good. Seneca (Suasoriae vi. 22) and Quintilian (x. r. ioi) bear witness to his impartiality. Thus, Hasdrubal's devotion and valour at the battle on the Metaurus are described in terms of eloquent praise; and even in Hannibal, the lifelong enemy of Rome, he frankly recognizes the great qualities that balanced his faults. Nor, though his sympathies are unmistakably with the aristocratic party, does he scruple to censure the pride, cruelty and selfishness which too often marked their conduct (ii. 54; the speech of Canuleius, iv. 3; of Sextius and Licinius, vi. 36); and, though he feels acutely that the times are out of joint, and has apparently little hope of the future, he still believes in justice and goodness. He is often righteously indignant, but never satirical, and such a pessimism as that of Tacitus and Juvenal is wholly foreign to his nature.

Though he studied and even wrote on philosophy (Seneca, Ep. Ioo. 9), Livy is by no means a philosophic historian. We learn indeed from incidental notices that he inclined to Stoicism and disliked the Epicurean system. With the scepticism that despised the gods (x. 40) and denied that they meddled with the affairs of men (xliii. 13) he has no sympathy. The immortal gods are everywhere the same; they govern the world (xxxvii. 45) and reveal the future to men by signs and wonders (xliii. 13), but only a debased superstition will look for their hand in every petty incident, or abandon itself to an indiscriminate belief in the portents and miracles in which popular credulity ​delights. The ancient state religion of Rome, with its temples, priests and auguries, he not only reverences as an integral part of the Roman constitution, with a sympathy which grows as he studies it, but, like Varro, and in true Stoic fashion, he regards it as a valuable instrument of government (i. 19.21), indispensable in a well-ordered community. As distinctly Stoical is the doctrine of a fate to which even the gods must yield (ix. 4), which disposes the plans of men (i. 42) and blinds their minds (v. 37), yet leaves their wills free (xxxvii. 45).

But we find no trace in Livy of any systematic application of philosophy to the facts of history. He is as innocent of the leading ideas which shaped the work of Polybius as he is of the cheap theorizing which wearies us in the pages of Dionysius. The events are graphically, if not always accurately, described; but of the larger causes at work in producing them, of their subtle action and reaction upon each other, and of the general conditions amid which the history worked itself out, he takes no thought at all. Nor has Lily much acquaintance with either the theory or the practice of politics. He exhibits, it is true, political sympathies and antipathies. He is on the whole for the nobles and against the commons; and, though the unfavourable colours in which he paints the leaders of the latter are possibly reflected from the authorities he followed, it is evident that he despised and disliked the multitude. Of monarchy he speaks with a genuine Ronan hatred, and we know that in the last days of the republic his sympathies were wholly with those who strove in vain to save it. He betrays, too, an insight into the evils which were destined finally to undermine the imposing fabric of Roman Empire. The decline of the free population, the spread of slavery (vi. 12, vii. 25), the universal craving for wealth (iii. 26), the employment of foreign mercenaries (xxv. 33), the corruption of Roman race and Roman manners by mixture with aliens (xxxix. 3), are all noticed in tones of solemn warning. But his retired life had given him no wide experience of men and things. It is not surprising, therefore, to find that he fails altogether to present a clear and coherent picture of the history and working of the Roman constitution, or that his handling of intricate questions of policy is weak and inadequate.

Sources.—If from the general aim and spirit of Livy's history we pass to consider his method of workmanship, we are struck at once by the very different measure of success attained by him in the two great departments of an historian's labour. He is a consummate artist, but an unskilled and often careless investigator and critic. The materials which lay ready to his hand may be roughly classed under two heads: (1) the original evidence of monuments, inscriptions, &c., (2) the written tradition as found in the works of previous authors. It is on the second of these two kinds of evidence that Livy almost exclusively relies. Yet that even for the very early times a certain amount of original evidence still existed is proved by the use which was made of it by Dionysius, who mentions at least three important inscriptions, two dating from the regal period and one from the first years of the republic (iv. 26, iv. 58, x. 32). We know from Livy himself (iv. 20) that the breastplate dedicated by Aulus Cornelius Cossus (428 B.C.) was to be seen in his own day in the temple of Jupiter Feretrius, nor is there any reason to suppose that the libri lintei, quoted by Licinius Macer, were not extant when Livy wrote. For more recent times the materials were plentiful, and a rich field of research lay open to the student in the long series of laws, decrees of the senate, and official registers, reaching back, as it probably did, at least to the beginning of the 3rd century B.C. Nevertheless it seems certain that Livy never realized the duty of consulting these relics of the past, even in order to verify the statements of his authorities. Many of them he never mentions; the others (e.g. the libri lintei) he evidently describes at second hand. Antiquarian studies were popular in his day, but the instances are very few in which he has turned their results to account. There is no sign that he had ever read Varro; and he never alludes to Verrius Flaccus. The haziness and inaccuracy of his topography make it clear that he did not attempt to familiarize himself with the actual scenes of events even that took place in Italy. Not only does he confuse Thermon, the capital of Aetolia, with Thermopylae (xxxiii. 35), but his accounts of the Roman campaigns against Volsci, Aequi and Samnites swarm with confusions and difficulties; nor are even his descriptions of Hannibal's movements free from an occasional vagueness which betrays the absence of an exact knowledge of localities.

The consequence of this indifference to original research and patient verification might have been less serious had the written tradition on which Livy preferred to rely been more trustworthy. But neither the materials out of which it was composed, nor the manner in which it had been put together, were such as to make it a safe guide. It was indeed represented by a long line of respectable names. The majority of the Roman annalists were men of high birth and education, with a long experience of affairs, and their defects did not arise from seclusion of life or ignorance of letters. It is rather in the conditions under which they wrote and in the rules and traditions of their craft that the causes of their shortcomings must be sought.

It was not until the 6th century from the foundation of the city that historical writing began in Rome. The father of Roman history, Q. Fabius Pictor, a patrician and a senator, can scarcely have published his annals before the close of the Second Punic War, but these annals covered the whole period from the arrival of Evander in Italy down at least to the battle by Lake Trasimene (217 B.C.). Out of what materials, then, did he put together his account of the earlier history? Recent criticism has succeeded in answering this question with some degree of certainty. A careful examination of the fragments of Fabius (see H. Peter, Historicorum Romanorum Relliquiae, Leipzig, 1870; and C. W. Nitzsch, Rom. Annalistik, Berlin, 1873) reveals in the first place a marked difference between the kingly period and that which followed the establishment of the republic. The history of the former stretches back into the regions of pure mythology. It is little more than a collection of fables told with scarcely any attempt at criticism, and with no more regard to chronological sequence than was necessary to make the tale run smoothly or to fill up such gaps as that between the flight of Aeneas from Troy and the supposed year of the foundation of Rome. But from its very commencement the history of the republic wears a different aspect. The mass of floating tradition, which had come down from early days, with its tales of border raids and forays, of valiant chiefs and deeds of patriotism, is now rudely fitted into a framework of a wholly different kind. This framework consists of short notices of important events, wars, prodigies, consecration of temples, &c., all recorded with extreme brevity, precisely dated, and couched in a somewhat archaic style. They were taken probably from one or more of the state registers, such as the annals of the pontiffs, or those kept by the aediles in the temple of Ceres. This bare official outline of the past history of his city was by Fabius filled in from the rich store of tradition that lay ready to his hand. The manner and spirit in which he effected this combination were no doubt wholly uncritical. Usually he seems to have transferred both annalistic notices and popular traditions to his pages much in the shape in which he found them. But he unquestionably gave undue prominence to the tales of the prowess and glory of the Fabii, and probably also allowed his own strong aristocratic sympathies to colour his version of the early political controversies. This fault of partiality was, according to Polybius, a conspicuous blot in Fabius's account of his own times, which was, we are told, full and in the main accurate, and, like the earlier portions, consisted of official annalistic notices, supplemented, however, not from tradition, but from his own experience and from contemporary sources. But even here Polybius charges him with favouring Rome at the expense of Carthage, and with the undue exaltation of the great head of his house, Q. Fabius Cunctator.

Nevertheless the comparative fidelity with which Fabius seems to have reproduced his materials might have made his annals the starting point of a critical history. But unfortunately intelligent criticism was exactly what they never received. It is true that in some respects a decided advance upon Fabius was made by subsequent annalists. M. Porcius Cato (234-149 B.C.) widened the scope of Roman history so as to include that of the chief Italian cities, and made the first serious attempt to settle the chronology. In his history of the Punic wars Caelius Antipater (c. 130 B.C.) added fresh material, drawn probably from the works of the Sicilian Greek Silenus, while Licinius Macer (70 B.C.) distinguished himself by the use he made of the ancient "linen books." No doubt, too, the later annalists, at any rate from Caelius Antipater onwards, improved upon Fabius in treatment and style. But in more essential points we can discern no progress. One annalist after another quietly adopted the established tradition, as it had been left by his predecessors, without any serious alterations of its main outlines. Of independent research and critical analysis we find no trace, and the general agreement upon main facts is to be attributed simply to the regularity with which each writer copied the one before him. But, had the later annalists contented themselves with simply reproducing the earlier ones, we should at least have had the old tradition before us in a simple and tolerably genuine form. As it was, while

they slavishly clung to its substance, they succeeded, as a rule, in destroying all traces of its original form and colouring. L. Calpurnius Piso, tribune in 149 B.C. and consul in 133 B.C., prided himself on reducing the old legends to the level of common sense, and importing into them valuable moral lessons for his own generation. By Caelius Antipater the methods of rhetoric were first applied to history, a disastrous precedent enough. He inserted speeches, enlivened his pages with chance tales, and aimed, as Cicero tells us, at not merely narrating facts but also at beautifying them. His successors carried still farther the practice of dressing up the rather bald chronicles of earlier writers with all the ornaments of rhetoric. The old traditions were altered, almost beyond the possibility of recognition, by exaggerations, interpolations and additions. Fresh incidents were inserted, new motives suggested and speeches composed in order to infuse the required life and freshness into these dry bones of history. At the same time the political bias of the writers, and the political ideas of their day were allowed, in some cases perhaps half unconsciously, to affect their representations of past events. Annalists of the Gracchan age imported into the early struggles of patricians and plebeians the economic controversies of their own day, and painted the first tribunes in the colours of the two Gracchi or of Saturninus. In the next generation they dexterously forced the venerable records of the early republic to pronounce in favour of the ascendancy of the senate, as established by Sulla. To political bias was added family pride, for the gratification of which the archives of the great houses, the funeral panegyrics, or the imagination of the writer himself supplied an ample store of doubtful material. Pedigrees were invented, imaginary consulships and fictitious triumphs inserted, and family traditions and family honours were formally incorporated with the history of the state.

Things were not much better even where the annalists were dealing with recent or contemporary events. Here, indeed, their materials were naturally fuller and more trustworthy, and less room was left for fanciful decoration and capricious alteration of the facts. But their methods are in the main unchanged. What they found written they copied; the gaps they supplied, where personal experience failed, by imagination. No better proof of this can be given than a comparison of the annalist's version of history with that of Polybius. In the fourth and fifth decades of Livy the two appear side by side, and the contrast between them is striking. Polybius, for instance, gives the number of the slain at Cynoscephalae as 8000; the annalists raise it as high as 40,000 (Livy xxxiii. 10). In another case (xxxii. 6) Valerius Antias, the chief of sinners in this respect, inserts a decisive Roman victory over the Macedonians, in which 12,000 of the latter were slain and 2200 taken prisoner, an achievement recorded by no other authority.

Such was the written tradition on which Livy mainly relied. We have next to examine the manner in which he used it, and here we are met at the outset by the difficulty of determining with exactness what authorities he is following at any one time; for of the importance of full and accurate references he has no idea, and often for chapters together he gives us no clue at all. More often still he contents himself with such vague phrases as "they say," "the story goes," "some think," or speaks in general terms of "ancient writers" or "my authorities." Even where he mentions a writer by name, it is frequently clear that the writer named is not the one whose lead he is following at the moment, but that he is noticed incidentally as differing from Livy's guide for the time being on some point of detail (compare the references to Piso in the first decade, i. 55, ii. 32, &c.). It is very rarely that Livy explicitly tells us whom he has selected as his chief source (e.g. Fabius xxii. 7; Polybius xxxiii. 10). By a careful analysis, however, of those portions of his work which admit of a comparison with the text of his acknowledged authorities (e.g fourth and fifth decades, see H. Nissen, Untersuchungen, Berlin, 1863), and elsewhere by comparing his version with the known fragments of the various annalists, and with what we are told of their style and method of treatment, we are able to form a general idea of his plan of procedure. As to the first decade, it is generally agreed that in the first and second books, at any rate, he follows such older and simpler writers as Fabius Pictor and Calpurnius Piso (the only ones whom he there refers to by name), to whom, so far as the first book is concerned, Niebuhr (Lectures, p 33) would add the poet Ennius. With the close of the second book or the opening of the third we come upon the first traces of the use of later authors. Valerius Antias[3] is first quoted in iii. 5, and signs of his handiwork are visible here and there throughout the rest of the decade (vii. 36, ix. 27, x. 3-5). In the fourth book the principal authority is apparently Licinius Macer, and for the period following the sack of Rome by the Gauls Q. Claudius Quadrigarius, whose annals began at this point in the history. We have besides a single reference (vii. 3) to the antiquarian Cincius, and two (iv. 23, x 9) to Q. Aelius Tubero, one of the last in the list of annalists. Passing to the third decade, we find ourselves at once confronted by a question which has been long and fully discussed - the relation between Livy and Polybius. Did Livy use Polybius at all, and, if so, to what extent ?

It is conceded on all hands that Livy in this decade makes considerable use of other authorities than Polybius (e.g. Fabius xxii. 7; Caelius Antipater xxi. 38, 46, 47, xxii. 31, &c.), that he only once mentions Polybius (xxx. 45), and that, if he used him, he p did so to a much less extent than in the fourth and fifth y decades, and in a very different manner. It is also agreed that we can detect in Livy's account of the Hannibalic war two distinct elements, derived originally, the one from a Roman, the other from a non-Roman source. But from these generally accepted premises two opposite conclusions have been drawn. On the one hand, it is maintained (e.g. by Lachmann, C. Peter, H. Peter, Hist. Rom. Relliq.) that those parts of Livy's narrative which point to a non-Roman authority (e.g. Hannibal's movements prior to his invasion of Italy) are taken by Livy directly from Polybius, with occasional reference of course to other writers, and with the omission (as in the later decades) of all matters uninteresting to Livy or his Roman readers, and the addition of rhetorical touches and occasional comments. It is urged that Livy, who in the fourth and fifth decades shows himself so sensible of the great merits of Polybius, is not likely to have ignored him in the third, and that his more limited use of him in the latter case is fully accounted for by the closer connexion of the history with Rome and Roman affairs, and the comparative excellence of the available Roman authorities, and, lastly, that the points of agreement with Polybius, not only in matter but in expression, can only be explained on the theory that Livy is directly following the great Greek historian. On the other hand, it is maintained (especially by Schwegler, Nitzsch, and K. Bottcher) that the extent and nature of Livy's agreement with Polybius in this part of his work point rather to the use by both of a common original authority. It is argued that Livy's mode of using his authorities is tolerably uniform, and that his mode of using Polybius in particular is known with certainty from the later decades. Consequently the theory that he used Polybius in the third decade requires us to assume that in this one instance he departed widely, and without sufficient reason, from his usual course of procedure. Moreover, even in the passages where the agreement with Polybius is most apparent, there are so many discrepancies and divergencies in detail, and so many unaccountable omissions and additions, as to render it inconceivable that he had the text of Polybius before him. But all these are made intelligible if we suppose Livy to have been here following directly or indirectly the same original sources that were used by Polybius. The earliest of these original sources was probably Silenus, with whom may possibly be placed, for books xxi. xxii., Fabius Pictor. The latter Livy certainly used directly for some parts of the decade. The former he almost as certainly knew only at second hand, the intermediate authority being probably Caelius Antipater. This writer, who confined himself to a history of the Second PunicWar, in seven books, is expressly referred to by Livy eleven times in the third decade; and in other passages where his name is not mentioned Livy can be shown to have followed him (e.g. xxii. 5, 49, 50, 51, xxiv. 9). In the latter books of the decade his chief authority is possibly Valerius Antias.

In the fourth and fifth decades the question of Livy's authorities presents no great difficulties, and the conclusions arrived at by Nissen in his masterly Untersuchungen have met with general acceptance. These may be shortly stated as follows. In the portions of the history which deal with Greece and the East, Livy follows Polybius, and these portions are easily distinguishable from the rest by their superior clearness, accuracy and fulness. On the other hand, for the history of Italy and western Europe he falls back on Roman annalists, especially, it seems, on Claudius Quadrigarius and Valerius Antias - a most unfortunate choice - and from them too he takes the annalistic mould into which his matter is cast.

Livy's general method of using these authorities was certainly not such as would be deemed satisfactory in a modern historian.Critical method He is indeed free from the grosser faults of deliberate Critical injustice and falsification, and he resists that temptation to invent, to which "the minds of authors are only too method. much inclined" (xxii. 7). Nor is he unconscious of the necessity for some kind of criticism. He distinguishes between rumour and the precise statements of recognized authorities (cf. xxi. 46, v. 21, vii. 6). The latter he reproduced in the main faithfully, but with a certain exercise of discretion. Where they disagreed, he calls attention to the fact, occasionally pronouncing in favour of one version rather than another (ii. 41, xxi. 46) though often on no adequate grounds, or attempting to reconcile and explain discrepancies (vi. 12, 38). Where he detects or suspects the insertion of fabulous matter he has no scruple in saying so. Gross exaggerations, such as those in which Valerius Antias indulged, he roundly denounces, and with equal plainness of speech he condemns the family vanity which had so constantly corrupted and distorted the truth. "I suppose," he says (viii. 40), "that the record and memorial of these matters bath been depraved and corrupted by these funeral orations of praises,. while every house and family draweth to it the honour and renown of noble exploits, martial feats and dignities by any untruth and lie, so it be colourable." The legendary character of the earliest traditions he frankly admits. "Such things as are reported either before or at the foundation of the city, more beautiful and set out with poets' fables than grounded upon pure and faithful records, I mean neither to aver nor disprove" (Praef); and of the whole history previous

to the sack of Rome by the Gauls (390 B.C.) he writes that it was obscure "both in regard of exceeding antiquity, and also for that in those days there were very few writings and monuments, the only faithful safeguard and true remembrancers of deeds past; and, besides, whatsoever was registered in the commentaries of the priests and in other public or private records, the same for the most part, when the city was burned, perished withal." Further than this, however, Livy's criticism does not go. Where his written authorities are not palpably inconsistent with each other or with probability he accepts and transcribes their record without any further inquiry, nor does he ever attempt to get behind this record in order to discover the original evidence on which it rested. His acceptance in any particular case of the version given by an annalist by no means implies that he has by careful inquiry satisfied himself of its truth. At the most it only presupposes a comparison with other versions, equally second-hand, but either less generally accepted or less in harmony with his own views of the situation; and in many cases the reasons he gives for his preference of one account over another are eminently unscientific. Livy's history, then, rests on no foundation of original research or even of careful verification. It is a compilation, and even as such it leaves much to be desired. For we cannot credit Livy with having made such a preliminary survey of his authorities as would enable him to determine their relations to each other, and fuse their various narratives into a consistent whole. It is clear, on the contrary, that his circle of authorities for any one decade was a comparatively small one, that of these he selected one, and transcribed him with the necessary embellishments and other slight modifications until impelled by various reasons to drop him. He then, without warning, takes up another, whom he follows in the same way. The result is a curious mosaic, in which pieces of all colours and dates are found side by side, and in which even the great artistic skill displayed throughout fails to conceal the lack of internal unity. Thus many of Livy's inconsistencies are due to his having pieced together two versions, each of which gave a differently coloured account of the same event. Mommsen (Rom. Forschungen, ii.) has clearly shown that this is what has happened in his relation of the legal proceedings against the elder Africanus in book xxxviii.; and in the story of the first secession, as he tells it, the older version which represented it as due to political and the later which explained it by economical grievances are found side by side. Similarly a change from one authority to another leads him not unfrequently to copy from the latter statements inconsistent with those he took from the former, to forget what he has previously said, or to treat as known a fact which has not been mentioned before (cf. ii. I, xxxiv. 6, and Weissenborn's Introduction, p. 37). In other cases where the same event has been placed by different annalists in different years, or where their versions of it varied, it reappears in Livy as two events. Thus the four campaigns against the Volsci (ii. 17 seq.) are, as Schwegler (R.G. i. 13) rightly says, simply variations of one single expedition. Other instances of such "doublettes" are the two single combats described in xxiii. 46 and xxv. 18, and the two battles at Baecula in Spain (xxvii. 18 and xxviii. 13). Without doubt, too, much of the chronological confusion observable throughout Livy is due to the fact that he follows now one now another authority, heedless of their differences on this head. Thus he vacillates between the Catonian and Varronian reckoning of the years of the city, and between the chronologies of Polybius and the Roman annalists.

To these defects in his method must be added the fact that he does not always succeed even in accurately reproducing the authority he is for the time following. In the case of Polybius, for instance, he allows himself great freedom in omitting what strikes him as irrelevant, or tedious, or uninteresting to his Roman readers, a process in which much valuable matter disappears. In other cases his desire to give a vividness and point to what he doubtless considered the rather bald and dry style of Polybius leads him into absurdities and inaccuracies. Thus by the treaty with Antiochus (188 B.C.) it was provided that the Greek communities of Asia Minor "shall settle their mutual differences by arbitration," and so far Livy correctly transcribes Polybius, but he adds with a rhetorical flourish, "or, if both parties prefer it, by war" (xxxviii. 38). Elsewhere his blunders are apparently due to haste, or ignorance or sheer carelessness; thus, for instance, when Polybius speaks of the Aetolians assembling at their capital Thermon, Livy (xxxiii. 35) not only substitutes Thermopylae but gratuitously informs his readers that here the Pylaean assemblies were held. Thanks partly to carelessness, partly to mistranslation, he makes sad havoc (xxxv. 5 seq.) of Polybius's account of the battle of Cynoscephalae. Finally, Livy cannot be altogether acquitted on the charge of having here and there modified Polybius in the interests of Rome.

Style−Serious as these defects in Livy's method appear if viewed in the light of modern criticism, it is probable that they were easily pardoned, if indeed they were ever discovered, by his contemporaries. For it was on the artistic rather than on the critical side of history that stress was almost universally laid in antiquity, and the thing that above all others was expected from the historian was not so much a scientific investigation and accurate exposition of the truth, as its skilful presentation in such a form as would charm and interest the reader. Tried by this standard, Livy deservedly won and held a place in the very first rank. Asinius Pollio sneered at his Patavinity, and the emperor Caligula denounced him as verbose, but with these exceptions the opinion of antiquity was unanimous in pronouncing him a consummate literary workman. The classical purity of his style, the eloquence of his speeches, the skill with which he depicted the play of emotion, and his masterly portraiture of great men, are all in turn warmly commended, and in our own day we question if any ancient historian is either more readable or more widely read. It is true that for us his artistic treatment of history is not without its drawbacks. The more trained historical sense of modern times is continually shocked by the obvious untruth of his colouring, especially in the earlier parts of his history, by the palpable unreality of many of the speeches, and by the naïveté with which he omits everything, however important, which he thinks will weary his readers. But in spite of all this we are forced to acknowledge that, as a master of what we may perhaps call "narrative history," he has no superior in antiquity; for, inferior as he is to Thucydides, to Polybius, and even to Tacitus in philosophic power and breadth of view, he is at least their equal in the skill with which he tells his story. He is indeed the prince of chroniclers, and in this respect not unworthy to be classed even with Herodotus (Quintilian, x. I. IOI). Nor is anything more remarkable than the way in which Livy's fine taste and sense of proportion, his true poetic feeling and genuine enthusiasm, saved him from the besetting faults of the mode of treatment which he adopted. The most superficial comparison of his account of the earliest days of Rome with that given by Dionysius shows from what depths of tediousness he was preserved by these qualities. Instead of the wearisome prolixity and the misplaced pedantry which make the latter almost unreadable, we find the old tales briefly and simply told. Their primitive beauty is not marred by any attempt to force them into an historical mould, or disguised beneath an accumulation of the insipid inventions of later times. At the same time they are not treated as mere tales for children, for Livy never forgets the dignity that belongs to them as the prelude to the great epic of Rome, and as consecrated by the faith of generations. Perhaps an even stronger proof of the skill which enabled Livy to avoid dangers which were fatal to weaker men is to be found in his speeches. We cannot indeed regard them,with the ancients, as the best part of his history, for the majority of them are obviously unhistorical, and nearly all savour somewhat too much of the rhetorical schools to be perfectly agreeable to modern taste. To appreciate them we must take them for what they are, pieces of declamation, intended either to enliven the course of the narrative, to place vividly before the reader the feelings and aims of the chief actors, or more frequently still to enforce some lesson which the author himself has at heart. The substance, no doubt, of many of them Livy took from his authorities, but their form is his own, and, in throwing into them all his own eloquence and enthusiasm, he not only acted in conformity with the established traditions of his art, but found a welcome outlet for feelings and ideas which the fall of the republic had deprived of all other means of expression.Speeches To us, therefore, they are valuable not only for their eloquence, but still more as giving us our clearest insight into Livy's own sentiments, his lofty sense of the greatness of Rome, his appreciation of Roman courage and firmness, and his reverence for the simple virtues of older times. But, freely as Livy uses this privilege of speechmaking, his correct taste keeps his rhetoric within reasonable limits. With a very few exceptions the speeches are dignified in tone, full of life and have at least a dramatic propriety, while of such incongruous and laboured absurdities as the speech which Dionysius puts into the mouth of Romulus, after the rape of the Sabine women, there are no instances in Livy.

But, if our estimate of the merits of his speeches is moderated by doubts as to his right to introduce them at all, no such scruples interfere with our admiration for the skill with which he has drawn the portraits of the great men who figure in his pages. We may indeed doubt whether in all cases they are drawn with perfect accuracy and impartiality, but of their life-like vigour and clearness there can be no question. With Livy this portrait-painting was a labour of love. "To all great men," says Seneca, "he gave their due ungrudgingly," but he is at his best in dealing with those who, like Q. Fabius Maximus, "the Delayer," were in his eyes the most perfect types of the true Roman.

The general effect of Livy's narrative is no doubt a little spoilt by the awkward arrangement, adopted from his authorities, which obliges him to group the events by years, and thus to disturb their natural relations and continuity. As the result his history has the appearance of being rather a series of brilliant pictures loosely strung together than a coherent narrative. But it is impossible not to admire the copious variety of thought and language, and the evenly flowing style which carried him safely through the dreariest periods of his history; and still more remarkable is the dramatic power he displays when some great crisis or thrilling episode stirs his blood, such as the sack of Rome by the Gauls, the battle by the Metaurus and the death of Hasdrubal.

In style and language Livy represents the best period of Latin prose writing. He has passed far beyond the bald and meagre diction of the early chroniclers. In his hands Latin acquired a flexibility and a richness of vocabulary unknown to it before. If he writes with less finish and a less perfect rhythm than his favourite model Cicero, he excels him in the varied structure of his periods, and their adaptation

to the subject-matter. It is true that here and there the "creamy richness" of his style becomes verbosity, and that he occasionally draws too freely on his inexhaustible store of epithets, metaphors and turns of speech; but these faults, which did not escape the censure even of friendly critics like Quintilian, are comparatively rare in the extant parts of his work. From the tendency to use a poetic diction in prose, which was so conspicuous a fault in the writers of the silver age, Livy is not wholly free. In his earlier books especially there are numerous phrases and sentences which have an unmistakably poetic ring, recalling sometimes Ennius and more often his contemporary Virgil. But in Livy this poetic element is kept within bounds, and serves only to give warmth and vividness to the narrative. Similarly, though the influence of rhetoric upon his language, as well as upon his general treatment, is clearly perceptible, he has not the perverted love of antithesis, paradox and laboured word-painting which offends us in Tacitus; and, in spite of the Venetian richness of his colouring, and the copious flow of his words, he is on the whole wonderfully natural and simple.

These merits, not less than the high tone and easy grace of his narrative and the eloquence of his speeches, gave Livy a hold on Roman readers such as only Cicero and Virgil besides him ever obtained. His history formed the groundwork of nearly all that was afterwards written on the subject. Plutarch, writers on rhetoric like the elder Seneca, moralists like Valerius Maximus, went to Livy for their stock examples. Florus and Eutropius abridged him; Orosius extracted from him his proofs of the sinful blindness of the pagan world; and in every school Livy was firmly established as a textbook for the Roman youth.

Text−The received text of the extant thirty-five books of Livy is taken from different sources, and no one of our MSS. contains them all. The MSS. of the first decade, some thirty in number, are with one exception derived, more or less directly, from a single archetype, viz., the recension made in the 4th century by the two Nicomachi, Flavianus and Dexter, and by Victorianus. This is proved in the case of the older MSS. by written subscriptions to that effect, and in the case of the rest by internal evidence. Of all these descendants of the Nicomachean recension, the oldest is the Codex Parisinus of the 10th century, and the best the Codex Mediceus or Florentinus of the 11th. An independent value attaches to the ancient palimpsest of Verona, of which the first complete account was given by Mommsen in Abhandl. der preussischen Akad. der Wissenschaften (1868). It contains the third, fourth, fifth and fragments of the sixth book, and, according to Mommsen, whose conclusions are accepted by Madvig (Emend. Livianae, 2nd ed., 18 77, p. 37), it is derived, not from the Nicomachean recension, but from an older archetype common to both.

For the third decade our chief authority is the Codex Puteanus, an uncial MS. of the 5th century, now at Paris. For the fourth we have two leading MSS. - Codex Bambergensis, 11th century, and the slightly older Codex Moguntinus, now lost and only known through the Mainz edition of 1518-1519. What remains of the fifth decade depends on the 5th century Laurishamensis or Vindobonensis from the monastery of Lorsch, edited at Basel in 1531.

A bibliography of the various editions of Livy, or of all that has been written upon him, cannot be attempted here. The following nay be consulted for purposes of reference; W. Engelmann, Scriptores Latini (8th ed., by E. Preuss, 1882); J. E. B. Mayor, Bibliographical Clue to Latin Literature (1875); Teuffel-Schwabe History of Roman Literature (Eng. trans.), 256, 257; M. Schanz, Geschichte der riimischen Litteratur, ii. 1 (2nd ed., 1899). The best editions of the complete text are those of W. Weissenborn (1858-1862, containing an introductory essay on Livy's life and writings; new edition by M. Muller, 1902), and J. N. Madvig and J. L. Ussing (1863-1873). The only English translation of any merit is by Philemon Holland (1600).

(H. F. P.; X.)

↑ For the fragments of an epitome discovered at Oxyrhynchus see J. S. Reid in Classical Review (July, 1904); E. Kornemann, Die neue Livius-Epitome aus Oxyrhynchus, with text and commentary (Leipzig, 1904); C. H. Moore, "The Oxyrhynchus Epitome of Livy in relation to Obsequens and Cassiodorus," in American Journal of Philology (1904), 241.
↑ The various rumours once current of complete copies of Livy in Constantinople, Chios and elsewhere, are noticed by B. G. Niebuhr, Lectures on the History of Rome from the first Punic War (ed. L. Schmitz, 1844), i. 65.
↑ For Livy's debt to Valerius Antias, see A. A. Howard in Harvard Studies Classical Philology, xvii (1906), pp 161 sqq.